


young wings

by nineonefive



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, lol!!!!!!! i have never. written anything this angsty before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineonefive/pseuds/nineonefive
Summary: “Um, I moved in across the hall.”There's a hint of consciousness that arises in this male's voice, and Changbin notices the slight mispronunciation of his words. And for whatever reason, Changbin is still talking, “Yeah, I noticed when I tripped all over your boxes yesterday.”###in the days where changbin feels shitty, he has no one to run to with the mess in his head that's getting to him. enter felix, the new tenant across the hall, who can somehow remedy the other man while his body slowly gets to him as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic i'm writing this year and it's about to progress into 2018...... dang  
> i feel the need to mention that changbin's character in this fic isn't all lively as he is himself (you'll see), so if you start to feel uncomfortable please do head back to other works.  
> i'll be updating the warnings/tags/characters whenever they slowly come up in this story, + the title's probably temporary i need to think of a better one lol  
> i haven't properly read the first chapter for grammar mistakes/whatever and i'll be doing that probably tomorrow, but anyhow... enjoy!

Changbin's late. Fucking shit, he's late again. It's the third time this week and Changbin knows that's pretty shitty, even for him, because it's only Wednesday.

He scrambles around his apartment, adamantly trying to avoid the mess and, Jesus, is that rest of the pizza he ordered two weeks ago? Finally, he locates his keys, hidden under scraps of paper with scribbled one-liners and he's out the door, locking the dead bolt behind him…

And tripping on the mess of boxes overflowing from the door across the hall. He takes a moment to glare at the door in substitute for whoever-the-fuck decided to leave their shit all over the hallway, before refocusing on the chaos beneath him.

  
The boxes are all nicely labeled with "kitchen", or "clothes”— speak of a domesticity Changbin hasn’t really felt since he lived by himself. He scowls one last time at the mess, belatedly remembering hearing about what might be someone finally getting the apartment across from his, gets back to his senses and hurries towards the elevator, still late.

 

* * *

 

It’s not until Changbin gets back to his apartment too late that he remembers the mystery person who moved in across the hall (which, thankfully, is devoid of the boxes from earlier). He considers maybe introducing himself at a more appropriate time, when he’s more awake and showered, but he’s not sure if that was worth the effort anyway.

Sighing as he unlocks his apartment, Changbin stumbles a few feet before collapsing on his couch, not bothering with his shoes or jacket. He shoves a hand in his pocket to grab at his phone.

Hyunjin isn’t returning his calls. Which, Hyunjin never returns his calls. But judging from the dial tone he gets two rings into his latest attempt, the other man is straight up avoiding him.

Changbin stares at the blank screen in front of him, willing anything to happen, and then he rams his phone onto the coffee table. Fuck that. He kicks his shoes off and onto the floor because fuck those too.

Shoving his head under some pillow his mom bought him, Changbin decides that passing out is preferable than waiting for any response from Hyunjin, and tries to get some sleep instead.

But right before he dozes off, Changbin considers maybe setting an alarm so he might actually show up to work on time tomorrow, but decides he doesn’t actually care.

 

* * *

 

Changbin wakes up with an aching back, and the profound thought that he’s probably got to get a better job (and with that, meaning one with much less menial labour). His head’s pounding. His stomach’s grumbling. He smells of day old clothes. And, judging by the light streaming through his window, he already knows he’s late for work.

Sighing, Changbin considers just calling in sick. Of course, he’s barely able to pay his rent as is, much less if he doesn’t actually show up to work every once in a while.

Changbin lets out another sigh as he sits up, very sore from all the work he did yesterday. He considers the lumpy couch beneath himself before deciding it’s better than last time when he was just so tired, passing out against his door while being unable to get his key to fit in the lock properly.

He pads his way into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Dejectedly, he watches it wheeze to life.

Fishing through his pockets as he undresses, Changbin pulls out a napkin with scrawled words he doesn’t remember writing.

_I need to rest, but I’m still far_

Changbin snorts. Definitely sounded like himself. He crumples the napkin and throws it into the waste bin. Not a good time for his own words to get at him like that.

Fifteen minutes (and a crappy breakfast) later, Changbin’s rushing out the door…

And straight into the arms of an unsuspecting stranger who, guessing by the open door behind him, is Changbin’s new neighbor. Changbin’s arms wrap around the other man in an attempt to break both their falls, and, for a moment, they lock eyes and all Changbin can think is _Wow, his hair’s really blond_.

“Um,” the stranger stammers out with a voice so low Changbin's surprised it even belongs to a person.

“Um,” Changbin replies because he is really articulate right now. And original. No wonder his life’s such a success!

They stare at each other for a moment longer, before Changbin decides he should probably stop being too close for the new tenant’s comfort. He extracts himself carefully, taking a step back and laughing nervous.

A step back and Changbin can actually get a good look at the guy, and his brown eyes shine in contrast to his bright blond locks, and he’s casually just got a random hoodie on. He has a completely foreign face, though Changbin can still see bits of Korean features in him. There’s a metallic silver cross hanging on his left ear, and while seeing just half a pair of earrings' never really been Changbin's thing, it's definitely working for this dude.

Unfortunately, he’s also looking hopefully at the ground, like maybe it will swallow him whole if he stares long enough. Which, okay, Changbin can relate.

Changbin’s beginning to wonder how long they can awkwardly stand around and avoid eye contact before he actually spontaneously combusts when he remembers he is, in fact, still late for work.

And because Changbin is a really smart person, he then blurts, “I’m late for work.”

Mouth hanging open, Changbin takes a moment to try and comprehend his own stupidity. Or at the very least, where the fuck the filter between his mouth and brain happened to go. However, thankfully, thankfully, the other guy appears just as dazed as him because his reply is, “Um, I moved in across the hall.” 

There's a hint of consciousness that arises in this male's voice, and Changbin notices the slight mispronunciation of his words. And for whatever reason, Changbin is still talking, “Yeah, I noticed when I tripped all over your boxes yesterday.”

Changbin wonders how much humiliation it’s possible to feel during one conversation. More or less, he isn't someone to actually get nervous in these kinds of situations. This is worse than the time many years ago his mom compared the mess in his room with a similie of a camel. A neglected camel at the South Pole.

And this is worse.

Somehow, though, rather than just walking away in embarrassment, the blond just laughs shyly, small smile present as he says, “I’m Felix. Felix Lee. Sorry about the boxes. I’m kind of a mess at the moment.”

He fidgets with the strings of his hoodie before offering a hand, and Changbin takes it gratefully, “Seo Changbin, and it’s cool, really. Though I really am late for work.”

“Yeah,” Felix replies, a teasing note entering his voice, “kinda like yesterday when you ran out and fell all over my boxes. Guess it was just me this time.”

Embarrassed, Changbin ducks his head, thankful he doesn’t blush easily. He returns the smile though, and somehow manages not to feel like a third grader meeting their crush for the first time.

“Yeah, well.” Changbin gestures at the hallway behind him, hoping to convey that he needs to get going, not _hey look, I know where the elevator is_. “I really should head to work. I’ll see you around though?” Changbin pretends his voice doesn’t sound hopeful, even to his own ears. Felix’s answering grin is enough that he doesn’t really care, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Changbin intended to visit his friend's house after work that night to spend some time rapping with them, but sends a text to Chris saying he'll drop by another day. He tells himself it's because he's sick of waking up on his lumpy couch when he does, in fact, own an actual bed. But really, he knows he's a lot more likely to run into Felix again if he's not fumbling his way into his apartment at one in the morning or tumbling into Chris' bed just because he's too lazy to head home by himself.

Of course, just because it's more likely doesn't mean it will actually happen. That doesn't stop Changbin from dejectedly staring at the closed door across from his, hall glaringly empty of anyone save Changbin himself.

He resists the urge to knock on the door, make some sort of scene, anything, because Changbin might be desperate, but even he knows that's just sad. Not to mention pretty fucking creepy.

He casts one more forlorn glance at Felix's door before turning to his own, letting himself in and tossing his keys on the table by the door.

All that excitement (and inevitable disappointment) about seeing Felix has left Changbin with a lot of nervous energy, and one glance around his cramped apartment lets him know that he can't just stay here, can't just sit and play computer games, or scribble half-thought lines like he usually does when he gets home early.

Still, now that he's home, he actually doesn’t want to actually practice rapping. He considers the old pizza box poking out from under the couch, and the bunch of dirty clothes thrown haphazardly around the room, and then heads into the kitchen. Under the sink he finds an unopened box of garbage bags; he grabs the whole pack and sets to work.

Over an hour later and Changbin thinks his apartment hasn't been this clean since he moved in. Or maybe since he was dating Jisung; he always liked a clean apartment.

Shutting down that particular line of thought as quickly and ruthlessly as possible, Changbin decides there's really only one thing he has left to do before his apartment could pass any FDA inspection, and he grimaces at the mountain of clothes he had been resolutely ignoring for the past hour.

Sighing the sigh of all those who no longer live with their mom to just do their laundry for them, Changbin trudges into his room and looks for a hamper.

 

* * *

 

As someone who doesn't actually own a washer or dryer, Changbin has the lovely privilege of using the "laundry room" provided by his apartment complex.

Changbin considers the three failing washing machines and equally-as-old dryers in the moldy basement of his building an apt metaphor for exactly where he stands in life. When one of the washing machines breaks down and he has to hold his soggy, half-clean clothes while waiting for one of the others to finish, well, it's all the more fitting. Maybe he’ll write about it, something tragic about spin cycles and the futility of repeat relationships. (Maybe laundry metaphors are why Chris never takes his lyrics sometimes).

Halfway through the drying cycles, Changbin hears a polite cough from the doorway behind where he’s sitting. He turns around and has the reign in his smile when he sees that it's Felix.

A sly grin creeps in when he sees the basket the blond's holding, and the words are just flowing out without thought, lightly teasing, "What? Two days here and you've already exhausted your wardrobe?"

Felix blushes, smile tugging at his lips as he looks down for a while before replying, "I was in a rush, moving out of my old place, and I didn't get a chance to do a load before I left." He gestures at the washing machines. "Are you using these?"

Changbin waves a hand, dismissive. "All yours."

Changbin watches as Felix unloads his bucket into the washing machine (adamantly avoiding the mold growing on and around the machine, which yeah, pretty gross), and wonders what kind of life he lived before two days ago. Changbin wonders if he moved across the city or from another country. If he left friends and family behind or if he was looking to start new. If he could ever come to call a place with shitty heating and even shittier neighbors home.

Changbin bites his cheek, tugs on his own hoodie, anything to distract his thoughts. Never one without a pen, he pulls a cheap ball point from his pocket and starts scribbling words on the back of his hand, usually the lines that quickly flow into his head during silent times like these.

 _If you want success, put snares that are called failures_  
_I bite the baits that are called pain_  
_I'm wandering around with my exhausted wings of passion temporarily folded_

"What're you doing?"

And Changbin freezes, because in his desperate attempt to rid his mind off his thoughts, he had completely forgotten about Felix in the room as well. He looks up slowly, not wanting to see the other male's reaction, that guarded look people get around Changbin because they all know his mind doesn't stop thinking.

However, when he locks eyes with Felix, all he sees is curiosity.

"I was just, uh, writing stuff that comes into my head. They're not... that good. But I'd rather have them down on paper, or y'know, my hand I guess, than in my head," Changbin explains, awkwardly trying to clarify without saying that he's choking on my own words.

But maybe Felix understands, or at the very least recognizes Changbin's discomfort, because he says, "Yeah, I get like that with my rapping. Like, I'd just feel like I'd internally combust if I don't get those rhymes and lines out."

Changbin instantly perks up, staring at this over five-feet wonder in front of him, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. "You rap?"

The other man fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, clearly a nervous gesture, before meeting Changbin's eyes again. "Yeah, I mean, it's just something I do once in a while."

However, Changbin's already up and across the room, gesturing excitedly. It's been so long since he's talked music with someone who didn't know him as Changbin, that one-third member of 3RACHA, an independent rapper group he's in with Chris and Jisung.

"We should totally rap together," Changbin announces, only noticing Felix's wide eyes and shocked expression once the words are already out. He quickly backpedals, because maybe asking a guy you met a day ago to collaborate with you is actually kind of creepy. Why was he so excited? "I mean, only if you want to. Uh, that was probably really weird of--"

"No, wait. I want to," Felix cuts him off, his voice confident even if his eyes are on the floor, "I'm free Friday night if you want to, um, hang out. Bring some of your stuff and maybe we'll, y'know, work something out. Or something."

He looks up at Changbin after he's finished speaking, lips quirked and eyes bright.

Changbin's answering smile is blinding, and the quick hug he gives Felix without thought is met with nothing but a soft chuckle and red cheeks.

Hours later, after his clothes are put away neatly, Changbin sets his alarm before going to sleep so he's not late for work the next day.

 

* * *

 

Thursday after work finds Changbin scrambling around his apartment, scrounging up stuff written on crumpled papers and pages of a tattered notebook. They’re all shoved in his nightstand drawer, where he can keep them without letting his mind visit them.

He reads his lines left aside after being unable to match them with others, thoughts he never got around to showing Chris and Jisung. But really, he needs anything he can find that doesn't completely suck to show his neighbor tomorrow. He stands in the middle of his room, before going to the bathroom and pulling the napkin from earlier that week out of the bin. He smoothes it on the counter, eyes carefully avoiding the words, before adding it to the growing pile on his bed.

 

* * *

 

Friday night Changbin knocks on Felix's door with his right hand, papers and a notebook clutched in his left. He had briefly considered copying from the loose papers into the notebook, but decided if he read through the words again, he'd probably just throw them all away out of sheer embarrassment.

Felix opens the door smiling, before raising his eyebrows at the items in Changbin's hand. Changbin clutches them tighter, and if Felix notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Changbin rubs the back of his neck nervously while saying, "I brought some of the stuff I've written."

Felix's eyes flicker back up to meet his and maybe Changbin’s a little too relieved when the focus is off the dump in his hand. Still, Felix smiles, no hint of anything but friendliness and says, “I noticed; you can come in!”

Felix steps aside to allow him past, and maybe Changbin’s a little surprised with what he finds. Changbin’s not sure what he expected, but besides having the exact same layout as his place across the hall, Felix's apartment couldn't look any more different from Changbin's.

If Changbin thought his apartment was clean, then Felix's is a fucking Clorox commercial— his furniture doesn’t have the same stains and holy shit, how he managed to get hardwood floors in a shithole building like theirs, Changbin will never know.

Still, the place looks surprising for having a resident for less than a week. Shoes kicked off by the door. A stack of mail on the coffee table. And Changbin’s pretty sure he can see a G-Dragon poster hanging over the unmade bed through the open door of what most likely is Felix's bedroom. It’s just really… nice. Homey.

He tells Felix as much and gets a shy smile in return. "Yeah, I like it myself too."

Felix leads him over to the couch, where there's two cans of Coca-Cola already waiting on the table in front of them. Changbin sits at the opposite end from Felix, and pretends he doesn’t notice the expectant looks the other man keeps shooting the contents of his left hand.

Changbin takes a few deep breaths before finally turning back to Felix, “Don't expect too much, okay?”

He wasn't like this— his confidence usually flows out without stop when he's around Chris and Jisung, but in this situation..?

Bemused, Felix laughs out, “They’re gonna be good.”

Changbin snorts, before handing Felix what basically equates to all the stuff he's written for the past 1-2 years of his life. It should be easier than it seems, but something about this just makes Changbin feel so exposed and vulnerable.

The latter quickly goes back to fidgeting while Felix takes his time to flip through the notebook, looking as if deep in thought. He’s sporting an intense look of concentration that means he either doesn’t know how to fix lyrics that suck, or that maybe he actually has something to work with. Felix starts mumbling words too low for Changbin to catch. Every few lines he’ll sit up straighter like maybe something’s actually going right and Changbin steadily works his way from nervous to excited while watching this guy work.

Despite what he said about rapping only being a hobby, Felix clearly knows what he’s doing.

A few minutes later and he looks up at Changbin, less concentration and more nerves. “Just… I’m gonna try something, okay? And you can tell me if you hate it or not.”

Changbin thinks that Felix could set his lyrics to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and he wouldn’t hate it, but decides that nodding would probably be the more appropriate response.

Felix takes in a measured breath, and sends Changbin a quick smile, and then opens his mouth and raps:

“ _I'm going to find out where the exit is / To save me from being locked in the darkness / I frantically try to run away..._ "

Felix keeps his eyes straight as he raps, with hand gestures guiding his flow, and that’s good, because Changbin thinks the blond would be uncomfortable if he could see the look of awe all over his own face.

The feeling amplifies as Felix finishes with 2 more lines, letting English slip out casually from his mouth and Changbin's really just impressed right now. Because finally there was someone who could somehow make his own lyrics work instead of seeing pieces of them in between Jisung and Chan's lyrics.

“I, uh,” Felix fidgets for a moment after he was done, eyes shifting but never quite landing on Changbin. His voice was clearly shaking from that nervousness of presenting his rapping for the first time to someone he just met, and Changbin's just staring.

He should probably say something.

“That was perfect.”

Changbin clearly didn't give himself time to think his words through.

But Felix’s only answer is a soft smile and the reddening of his cheeks, so maybe it’s not so bad.

They make it through about half a song, with Felix helping out in arranging more lines together—with Changbin still unable to comprehend how someone like Felix even exists,— before deciding to order pizza about 20 minutes later. They play a game which results in Changbin having to clean up after their meal, but could he really complain?

Changbin was working on his third slice of pizza when he notices, semi-hidden behind a closet door, looking halfway between a space heater and something too expensive for Changbin to be around without fear of somehow breaking it.

And because Changbin's mind has recently just been flowing with thoughts nonstop, he couldn't help but blurt out: “What is that?”

“Hm?” Felix replies distractedly, glancing up from his pizza to where Changbin is staring. There’s a moment where Changbin swears he tenses all over, before relaxing again and saying nonchalantly, “Oh, it’s an air purifier. Gets rid of mold and bacteria in the air and whatnot.”

“Oh, hypochondriac, much?” Changbin teases, giving Felix a sight smirk (and maybe regretting that comment a little).

“Maybe just a bit.”

Felix rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there’s a tightness in his features that makes Changbin think there’s more going on than the other guy's willing to talk about. Changbin drops the subject afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Saturday night and Changbin gets a call from Hyunjin asking if he wants to hang out. He glances at Felix, who’s probably getting more Coca-Cola cans from the kitchen, before saying he’s busy and hangs up.

 

* * *

 

Woojin’s sitting across from him, face pensive. It makes Changbin nervous, if only because Changbin usually doesn’t like the types of revelations Woojin tends to share with him; basically, they involve a level of honesty and self-examination that Changbin is never going to be comfortable with.

Still, there’s four more minutes of Woojin's thinking face and Changbin's eyes awkwardly darting around the floor before Woojin declares, “You’ve met someone.”

Changbin looks up and snorts. “What? Yeah, I met Seungmin again earlier this week. Really missed that guy, we talked for a long t—”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Woojin cuts him off, straight through Changbin’s bullshit, like he always does. “Someone like Jisung,” Woojin hesitates, “or Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin never answers my calls,” Changbin scoffs, though it hurts less to admit this week than it did last.

“You don’t want him to,” Woojin counters, and there’s too much truth in that for Changbin to reply. They sit in silence for a few tense moments before Woojin asks, “So is he nice?”

And Changbin smiles for a moment, small, genuine, before answering. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few weeks, Changbin and Felix find themselves falling into a pattern of spending the weekends together, one night usually dedicated to music and the other spent just hanging out and lazing around Felix’s apartment. For whatever reason, Felix always wants to stay in, and Changbin enjoys the company so much he’s not inclined to push the issue. Honestly, he’ll take Felix whichever way he’s willing to have him.

Eventually, Changbin starts bringing around his blanket, more papers to write on and his favorite pen, and he and Felix start working on writing songs into more than just the heart wrenching lines Changbin comes up with.  

Changbin can’t remember the last time he composed a song comprising solely of his words, but with Felix it’s easier than breathing. They fit together like the poetry Changbin used to write about friendships lost and shorter relationships, and he and Felix aren’t actually even together. (Though Changbin _wants._ He wants, he wants.)

But it’s not just writing, something about Changbin just clicks with Felix, and he feels like he’s know him forever rather than just a couple of months.

Sometimes they’ll stay up together for hours just talking, and Changbin shares parts of himself that he never thought he’d say out loud, never thought he’d admit other than during the late hours of night when he’s home alone and getting too emotional on the phone. He tells Felix about growing up and burning out. About Hyunjin. About Jisung. About what a wonderful friend Seungmin is.

He fills the spaces between them with so many words that his head feels empty afterwards. He always sleeps best on nights after talking to Felix. Despite having an apartment right across the hall, Changbin spends most weekends just crashing at Felix’s anyways. Somehow, he now prefers Felix’s couch to his own bed.

But it’s more than any of that, really. It’s not something Changbin could ever explain, but when he talks to Felix,  _Felix listens_ , with a glint of interest in his eyes, rather than just waiting for his turn, or just wanting to hear Changbin’s latest rant. There aren’t a lot of people willing to put up with bullshit just for the sake of Changbin. 

In fact, things are going so unimaginably well that Changbin is knocked flat on his ass when he and Felix have their first fight.

It starts off small. He just doesn’t understand why Felix refuses to go out and have fun. They’re still not together, not really, but Changbin wants to show Felix off anyway. Wants to tell everyone who’ll listen  _See this perfect person? This perfect kid who came all the way from Australia because he knows he enjoys it better here? See him? Well, he’s mine._ And it’s kind of possessive and creepy as hell, but that’s a sacrifice Changbin is willing to make so everyone knows how great Felix is.

So Changbin is just sitting on Felix’s couch whining about wanting to go out, wanting to go do something, when Felix snaps, “Well then why don’t you just fucking leave already, Seo Changbin?”

Changbin's back pedaling immediately, before deciding  _fuck it_  because things were bound to blow up eventually. "Why don't you just fucking come with me for once? What do you get out of fucking locking yourself up all the time?"

Felix's on his feet in an instant, red-faced and shaking. Changbin’s eyes widen, and Felix’s actually kind of terrifying for a guy who once gave Changbin a thirty-minute sharing on appreciating the different genres Western music has to offer.

"You think I want this, you asshole? You think I'd fucking choose  _this_?" Felix’s voice  _cracks_ , and he’s not just angry; he’s upset, his eyes are shining, but he’s also not backing down.

Apprehension crawls up Changbin's spine and maybe they should calm down, maybe they should sit down and just  _talk_  because there’s something more here, more than Felix just being a shut-in or Changbin just being an asshole. But he's on his feet without thinking, words tumbling out his mouth with just as little thought, "Then what, Felix Lee? What the fuck is going on here? Because you just look fucking crazy to me right now!"

Changbin winces at his own words because that was a pretty fucking low blow, but chances are it hurt him more than it did Felix. Changbin’s never known how to hurt someone without just hurting himself worse. That doesn’t prepare him for what Felix says next.

" _I'm fucking dying, you asshole._ " Instantly, Felix’s mouth snaps shut, and he steps back as if struck; whatever he meant to say, it wasn’t that.

And Changbin.

Changbin just stands there, unable to move. Unable to even open his mouth because  _what the fuck_.  _What the actual fuck, Felix. What the fuck._

Apparently, though, he is able to open his fucking mouth, because the look on Felix’s face is enough to know Changbin just said all of that out loud. Oh well. Because seriously,  _what the fuck_.

“I,” Felix starts, hesitating, fiddling with his fingers, like he has any right to be nervous right now. All the fight’s gone from him, and his eyes are pleading with Changbin. “Just… listen. Okay?”

Changbin actually manages to nod. Maybe he’s not broken, which is weird considering how his insides feel like they’re fucking ripping apart, tearing new holes in him that leave him bursting at the seams. Changbin’s about to fall apart and Felix wants him to  _listen_.

“I, um, was born with Severe Combined Immunodeficiency Disorder. It kind of... makes my immune system suck?” Felix says slowly, trying to ensure that he's speaking Korean correctly, though the words are clearly gnawing at him. He then swallows and continues on. “I can’t really spend a lot of time outside, or go to places with many people, I guess. I’ll get sick. And my body won't be able to really... fight it. It’s- I just,” Felix laughs. Though there’s no humor in it. “Basically, I could get the flu or something and it’ll fucking kill me.”

Felix's waiting for a response; Changbin can see it in his eyes. He’s waiting for Changbin to sit back down or come over and hug him like how Changbin always does. Something to let Felix know it’s okay, that  _they’re_  okay. But Changbin's a coward, such a fucking coward, and he breaks, because he turns around and walks out of the door instead.

 

* * *

 

Changbin spends the next few days thinking. Thinking, and ignoring the ringing of his phone or the knocking at his own door. 

And the whole thing’s awful, so fucking terrible, but it’s so much worse because of how much sense it makes once Changbin starts thinking. 

He thought Felix was just a neat freak, maybe a bit of a germaphobe, with the way he keeps his house clean and the air filter and three types of disinfectant soap he has in his bathroom. Turns out he’s just dying. It’s so horrible Changbin laughs until he’s crying.

Two days after walking out of Felix’s apartment, Changbin starts spending the next few nights at Chan's place, and pointedly  _not_  feeling guilty about ignoring Felix. There’s a number of voicemails on his phone that he doesn’t dare check, because Changbin knows that if he listens to them, he’ll be right back at Felix’s, apologizing and begging for forgiveness.

And right now, Changbin’s too angry about Felix dying to want anything other than to punch him in the face. Too devastated to want anything other than lie down and never get up again.

At some point in the night, he works up the courage to look up the condition on his laptop, spelling it wrong three times before he finally finds what he’s looking for. Changbin spends five minutes reading the Wikipedia page before he clears his internet history for the very first time in two years, and slams his laptop shut afterwards. He doesn’t search it up again.

 

* * *

 

Changbin’s been with Woojin for less than a minute when he asks, “You and Felix got into a fight?”

“No,” Changbin answers, glaring at Woojin and daring him to object.

“Was it your fault?”

Fucking figures Woojin wouldn’t give a shit about Changbin and his need for denial.

“Maybe,” Changbin sighs.

“Fix it,” is all Woojin says.

And that’s the end of that.

 

* * *

 

The week trudges on and eventually it’s Thursday. When Changbin leaves for work again (after asking for a temporary leave, he  _had to_ ), he stares forlornly at Felix’s door, but turns to the elevator without even considering knocking. He knows he’s miserable, and he’s knows how to fix it, but the thought that one day Felix wouldn’t be there to fix things is enough to make him stay away.

He’s on autopilot at work, not letting himself think about anything else because then he’ll think about  _everything_  and have a break down in the middle of his shift. He decides to work overtime today to distract himself from all his thoughts of the blond, getting home exhausted and at least managing to make it to his bed this time.

Really, it’s a hollow victory.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up at three in morning, entire body aching and stomach growling, and actually realizes what a massive idiot he’s being. Changbin scrambles out of bed and the sheets that have somehow twisted around him (that still smell mildly of Felix’s apartment), pulls on a pair of sweats and a plain shirt, along with a cap to hide his bed hair, before he’s out of his apartment and banging on Felix’s door, loud and without rhythm (the soundtrack to his heart). 

It swings open, and Felix’s standing there, grumpy and rumpled, but his face quickly goes from shocked to angry to  _really fucking pissed_  when he sees who’s bothering him so early in the morning and Changbin knows he’s about to have the door slammed in his face.

“Felix, wait—” He shoves his foot between the door and its frame, just in case Felix isn’t inclined to listen.

“What,” It’s flat, void of any emotion and Changbin would believe Felix didn’t care except he can see how much he’s hurt just by looking at his eyes, the way they won't meet Changbin's: they’re Felix’s biggest tell.

“I…”

Changbin doesn’t actually know what to say, so he does the next best thing and wraps both his hands around the sides of Felix’s neck, and presses his own lips on the blond’s right cheek.

For a single agonizing second, Felix’s completely still, not even pushing Changbin away.

But then reality comes crashing down and  _holy motherfucking shit_ , he’s kissing Felix and probably going to kill him because of all the fucking diseases Changbin’s just happily giving over to a guy who literally won’t even leave the house at the risk of people and their germs, why the fuck would he even want skin contact with Seo Changbin?

The older man leaps back, cursing, “Shit, shit, sorry.  _Sorry_. I wasn’t thinking, I fucked up and I’m going to kill you because I just kissed you and who knows what fucking diseases I have. Holy shit, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.  _Shit_.”

And Felix, the fucking asshole, just starts laughing. Changbin’s doesn’t think it’s particularly funny, but Felix’s eyes are shining. They’re the same shade of brown as they were when they first ran into each other in the hallway months ago, and for whatever reason that’s enough to calm him,  _to make everything alright_ , and Changbin shoves Felix back into his apartment to talk about music again; what they both, unmentioned, loved doing together.

 

* * *

 

Things don’t change all that much once he and Felix get together. Changbin’s kind of been in love with Felix since they met, and somehow, amazingly, Felix’s in the same boat.

Still, Changbin’s not sure what to think once he realizes he’s basically moved into Felix’s place. They’ve never really spent a lot of time at Changbin’s apartment. Not only is Felix’s cleaner, but he usually has actual food in the fridge and his couch is bigger for when they feel like cuddling, but are too lazy to make it to the bed.

But hanging out at Felix’s a lot and Changbin waking up one morning and not remembering the last time he slept in his own bed are two very different things. Changbin thinks about it as he strokes Felix’s hair. Honestly, his bed is both bigger and more comfortable, but he’s never once missed it. Not in the way he’d miss waking up with Felix’s arms around him, their legs tangled together, his cold feet pushed against Changbin’s calves.

Everything about Felix is different. How they met. How they talk. Changbin’s never had a friendship this intimate with someone before they were lovers, and maybe that’s a part of what makes them work.

And with Felix, Changbin can’t take him to all the sleazy places he usually takes (or meets) his past dates. Really, he can’t take Felix much of anywhere, or he’ll get a fucking cold and die. Which,  _Jesus_.

He’s doing his best around Felix to like, not be an asshole about it or anything. He doesn’t want to smother Felix, but isn’t willing to feign indifference either. Changbin stares at his hand, carding through Felix’s hair, and wonders where the line between  _please never leave please be okay_ and  _I’m worried about you and your condition_  lies.

He’s lost in thought, hand itching for his own pen, when his alarm starts blaring, obnoxiously loud and out of reach. Not wanting to wake Felix, he rolls over and shuts it off quickly. The grumpy noises Changbin hears behind him tell him exactly how _successful_ he was.

Rolling back towards Felix, he drapes his arms over the waist of the younger man, smiling brightly, unable (and unwilling) to stop himself.

“Ugh, Changbin,” Felix whines, but he’s trying to hide a smile, eyes playful, and Changbin can’t help but to bring himself up and peck him on the cheek. It’s soft and light, and the best thing is, it doesn’t have to go anywhere. Changbin can just kiss Felix because he’s wants to, and even better, because Felix wants to kiss back.

Changbin’s arm is still placed on Felix’s waist, and the blond starts wriggling out of his arms, whining, “Oh my God, Changbin. Get up. You’re gonna be late for work.”

Changbin smirks, waggling his eyebrows at Felix obnoxiously at he replies, “But last time I was late, I met you. Who knows what’ll happen this time.”

Felix snorts. “You’ll get to help me clean the kitchen.”

Changbin’s out of the bed and getting ready in record time, smiling to himself the whole time.

 

* * *

 

Changbin gets home from work feeling emotionally and mentally drained, tired in a way that he sometimes just can’t avoid.  It was a slow day, which really fucked him up because all he had was free time for  _what if_  scenarios. He knows Felix can sense something’s off, but seems to be deciding how to handle it. Changbin would rather they just not bring it up. ~~It’s a lot easier to pretend there’s not a problem if they never actually talk about it.~~

Felix suggests composing some more songs, and Changbin agrees instantly. Hearing Felix sing his own words always calms him down. (The fact that Felix knows this makes it even better.)

But despite his best effort, Changbin can’t pen down anything this time. His mind’s blank, and he’s clearly frustrated at the empty paper on the table in front of him. Felix’s worried glances grow more and more frequent and that just makes it worse. He looks at the pen in his hand, and decides that if he doesn’t write anything in the next few seconds, he’s going to throw it across the room. Or grip it so hard it’ll disintegrate into pieces; just break it past the point of repair. Because he’d rather destroy his mind himself than be unable to come up with anything from it.

Changbin takes a deep breath and places the pen down, ignoring the shaking in his hands and the tension that’s building behind his eyes. He feels like a rubber band just about to snap, and he’s pissed off at himself for getting like this in the first place. At Felix for being so goddamn understanding. And at everything else too, just because he fucking can be. He smiles at Felix, wide and brittle, and hates himself because it figures he’d fuck this up too. 

However, when his eyes meet Felix’s, they’re soft, sincere in a way Changbin doesn’t deserve. His hand finds Changbin's knee, gently rubbing circles, and some of the tension drains from Changbin’s body. Felix still hasn't said anything, but Changbin understands anyway.  _Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong._

"You make me really fucking happy," Changbin blurts, out of nowhere but not really.

"Changbin, I-"

But Changbin holds up a hand, cutting him off, before bringing it back down to rest atop Felix's. He links them together without thought, but doesn't miss Felix's little smile at the gesture.

"Just... Just let me finish, please. I need to say this," Changbin pleads, "You make me so happy, happier than I thought I could ever be. I kinda fell fast, and fell hard, y'know?

"But Felix, I'm so fucking scared. I'm scared you're gonna breathe in the wrong air or I'm gonna kiss you and fuck you over or something and I'm sorry for being like this, but just, please. Please don't let anything happen. Please don't get sick. Please... Just don't leave. I can't-- I won't. Just.  _Please_."

Changbin has inched closer to Felix with his words, and he's staring into Felix's eyes, willing him to understand what Changbin, for all his words and metaphors and shitty lines, can't quite seem to articulate.

But Felix just gets it, like he always fucking does, taking Changbin's useless words and making them mean something because all Felix says is, "I love you, too," before leaning in and closing the remaining gap between them.

Changbin relaxes instantly because that's it,  _that's exactly it_  and he laughs into the kiss, smiling against Felix's mouth, saying, "I love you too,  _too_."

And then Felix's laughing also and punching him in the arm and calling Changbin an asshole, but he couldn't be happier. He's still scared, fucking terrified, but he wouldn't trade this for anything.

 

* * *

 

One night, they’re lying on the floor of Felix’s apartment, casually drinking Coca-Cola, and since Changbin’s done with amateur research, he just has Felix answer his questions instead.

Was he sick a lot as a kid? (Yes.)

Is he afraid of dying? (Not anymore.)

Does he think he’ll live long enough to grow old? (Changbin holds his breath.) (Felix hesitates. It’s answer enough.)

He stares at the curve of the can in his hand, takes another mouthful of the drink, and decides he’s done with questions.

 

* * *

 

When he’s not worrying himself about Felix to the point of panic attacks, Changbin fucking loves being domestic. He loves waking up wrapped around Felix and then getting up and making breakfast together. He loves arguing about dumb shit like what shelf the cans of Coca-Cola goes on. He loves kissing Felix on the cheek right before leaving for work. It’s like cocaine or something worse, and he’s addicted.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying said domesticity, when Felix drops the bombshell. Like the fucker he is, Felix waits until Changbin has a mouth full of cereal so he can’t interrupt. “I’m thinking about joining the dance team that the nearby church has.”

“Um… what?”

“It’s just… You know I’ve kind of been dancing for a while now, both back in Australia and here in Korea. I think I’d be good at it.”

“No, no. Of course you would, but,” Changbin hesitates, wonders if he’s found the line and is about to cross it, before asking, “are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Felix’s eyes narrow, his mouth forming a thin line. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just… you’re not worried about getting sick or something? I mean, you’ll be exposing yourself to the sweaty bodies of others and that kinda environment, y’know?”

“Changbin,” Felix sighs, “I want to do this. And, I know it has its risks… but, they only meet up once in two weeks, and I’m tired of just being around here all day. I mean, I go downstairs to the store. I check up at work. It’ll just be like that.”

“But…” And maybe Changbin should shut up, but he’s  _worried_. He’s always worried. And, thinking about it, maybe a little hurt. “You wouldn’t let me take you on dates.”

“The types of places you’d take me are argument enough for why,” Felix says flatly. He then hesitates, before adding, “But… I’m sick of living my life in a bubble. So, if you want, we’ll go on dates. We’ll do whatever you want, Changbin. I want you to be okay with this, but more importantly, I want you to be happy.”

And it’s just like Felix to be so well-thought and utterly considerate, but Felix’s missing the point. A glaring oversight and Changbin intends to correct it.

“Felix, I want you to be safe. And going out, exposing yourself… I’d rather have you  _healthy_ , than have you in some fancy restaurant or dive bar. Being with you makes me happy enough.”

Changbin’s words don’t have the intended effect. Felix’s expression goes completely blank, and then he says very carefully, “You’re going to be late for work.”

He then gets up and leaves the kitchen. Changbin hears the soft click as Felix shuts himself in his bedroom.

He looks down at his cereal and thinks  _fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, uh..... yeah. i updated the tags and description and stuff. but there's still more to come
> 
> i was reading the first chapter again and holy shit, i ended it so shittily. i hope this chapter's better?  
> also i might literally just leave the title as it is because i can't think.... of anything better, even though i absolutely despise using songs as fanfiction titles
> 
> will this fic ever go up from here? we'll see


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence (punches), mention of blood (nosebleeds).

Changbin spends the entire day thinking about what Felix’s said. Thinks about living a life where walking outside could mean walking towards death. He thinks about Felix, all the fucking plushies he owns, the way he laughs when Changbin does something dumb, the way his facial expressions change with each line he raps.

All of it, everything, leads to the same conclusion: he just wants Felix to be happy, too.

On his way home, Changbin’s all ready to apologize, ready to let Felix know how much he supports him and will do whatever it takes to let him know that Changbin will be there for him however Felix wants him to be. _Because Changbin just wants Felix to be happy_. It’s a dizzying thought, but it has him grinning like a maniac in his head all the same.

Changbin opens the door, prepared to give a speech, but the words die on his lips when he sees Felix sitting on the couch, looking ready for a firing squad. Changbin’s stomach drops because he knows that look. _He knows that fucking look._

“No, wait, 'Lix,” Changbin’s already begging because he can’t— they can’t. Changbin can’t lose Felix, but especially not like _this_.

He can’t lose Felix because Felix doesn’t want him anymore. Changbin spent so much time worrying about Felix’s health that he stopped considering that one day Felix would actually realize how much Changbin isn’t worth having around.

“Just listen,” Felix sounds resigned, which is worse than angry because resigned means he’s thought about it. Resigned means there’s been a decision. Resigned means it’s permanent. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. With you. It’s just... we’re not gonna work out.

“And I think... I think we should end this— us.”

Felix stumbles through his words, but they still hit Changbin like a blow to the chest. He staggers closer to the blond, looking in his eyes and finding nothing he wants to see.

“I— Felix, please... Volunteer. Spend as much time out as you want, I’ll support you, I’ll go with you, but please, please fucking _don’t_ ,” Changbin can’t even say it out loud. He knows he’s shaking and he might be crying, but Felix is made of fucking stone, removed from the conversation like Changbin’s breakdown isn’t worth his energy or reaction. He’s been with Felix for half a year, but Changbin’s never seen him like this. He pleads with his last ounce of strength left, “I can’t lose you.”

Felix stiffens, and that was the wrong thing to say but Changbin doesn’t know _why_ . Doesn’t know how one fight, _one disagreement_ , can break down everything they’ve been building for the past six months.

“Don’t you get it?” Felix snaps, suddenly angry, suddenly unable to even look at Changbin. “You’re suffocating me. You need me too much, and I can’t handle that. You’re _broken_ , Changbin. And I can’t fix you.”

It’s like a cold shower in these winter temperatures, and suddenly Changbin is numb all over, unable to feel anything except the pounding of his heart, too fast and too loud. For a moment, he can’t breathe, doesn’t even want to. He stares at Felix, who can’t even look him the eyes while dumping him, who’s rage is directed as much at the floor as it is towards Changbin.

“I just wanted to protect you,” Changbin somehow manages, can feel the words on his lips, the shape of them on his mouth, but they’re meaningless because Felix doesn’t want them. And Changbin doesn’t know what to do with words Felix won’t take. “I just wanted to keep you safe.”

"I don’t need you to protect me, Changbin. I'm not fucking _breakable_ ," Felix seethes. Changbin barely has time to register the words before a fist is colliding with his face.

And Changbin's always been just on the side of too emotional. More than willing to throw the first punch when he’s pushed over his limit, and never one to leave a talk unfinished. But there’s no anger in Changbin now, no will to strike back. Just the same numbness as before.

Changbin’s backed up a few steps, staring at Felix in what feels like shock and he’s looking for anything that means he can still fix this, even the smallest hint that Felix wants him to. But Felix’s trembling with his rage, looking like he wants nothing more than to punch Changbin again, to get him to hit _back_ , but all Changbin can do is choke out, “I’m sorry.”

Something melts in Felix, and for a moment he looks just as heartbroken as Changbin feels. But then it’s gone, replaced with the same blank face he wore at the table this morning. And Changbin gets it. There’s nothing left to say.

Changbin turns around and walks out the door.

He unlocks his apartment and puts his keys on the table.

He goes to the bathroom and gets a tissue for his bleeding nose.

He stares at his reflection until morning, and then he goes to work.

 

* * *

 

This time, Felix doesn't call. Doesn't knock on his door. Doesn't even give Changbin his stuff back face-to-face.

Rather, Changbin finds all his shit outside his door in a box labeled "Clothes," from when Felix moved in almost a year ago, because apparently, Felix's the type of guy who holds onto useless things for far longer than he should.

Changbin takes the box, still full of all his stuff, and throws it away.

Two weeks and Changbin’s reverted back to basically the same loser he was before Felix. For Changbin, it seems, nothing ever really changes.

He’s going out and coming home late, getting into work even later, pushing away everything in an attempt to just feel nothing. It doesn’t work, but Changbin’s nothing if not stubborn.

He finds lyrics scattered around his house from when he’s thinking too much to avoid a pen, but throws them away without reading a single word. He’s still too horrified from the first time. ( _My compass seems to be broken in their eyes_.)

Changbin feels like his heart’s been shattered all over the floor, and he’s constantly being forced to walk barefoot over the pieces. He’s not sure how many more times he come out his apartment and stare at Felix’s door, right across from his, knowing he can never walk in again. It’s the worst kind of torture because Felix’s _right there,_ but he just doesn’t want Changbin there with him.

One day he comes home, and doesn’t even make it to his door before he’s turning around, back towards the elevator. He can’t fucking do this anymore.

 

* * *

 

Changbin goes to Chan's because he refuses to face Woojin. Can't bear to see that look Woojin gets when he sees the male too fucked up for people to want to stick around. Changbin hasn’t actually seen Chan often after he met Felix, but he’s the type of friend that’ll let Changbin bum on his couch without complaint.

When Changbin shows up, he knows Chan enough to see the questions he wants to ask at Changbin’s unkempt appearance and the bags under his eyes, but thankfully he refrains from saying anything. Changbin doubts it’ll last; Chan has even less consideration for social courtesy than him.

A few days later, Changbin’s proven right when Chan plops down on the couch next to Changbin, steals his chips, and asks, “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Changbin replies, snatching his chips back and avoiding looking at Chan. The dude’s weirdly perceptive for someone whose lack of sleep probably should have killed the last of his brain cells years ago.

“Really,” Chan deadpans, “because Woojin just called me saying that you’ve been avoiding him.”

 _Fuck_ , Changbin winces. Woojin is such a fucking traitor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Changbin tries.

“You’re doing your breakup sulk.”

"I don't have a _breakup sulk_ ," Changbin sulks, scrunching his nose, annoyed with his complete inability to catch a fucking break.

"Yeah, you do. This one must have sucked extra bad because you're trying even harder than usual to act like someone didn't knock you on your ass," Chan counters, and that's it, Changbin's had enough.

"Why don't you just mind your own fucking business, hyung?" Changbin snarls, sounding vicious and overreacting but not caring at all.

Chan's eyes widen and he throws his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't realize..."

"Yeah, well maybe you should shut your fucking mouth then, huh?"

Changbin's angry, so fucking pissed, and that's just one step from devastated, which is exactly where Changbin will be if they keep talking about this.

"I..." And Chan's walking on eggshells, somewhere between considerate and demanding when he says, "Woojin told me about Felix... You can’t just lock your feelings up and expect them to go away. You know what happened last time you tried that.”

"Yeah? Fucking watch me," Changbin snaps.

"Just... talk, Changbin. About anything. What he’s like. His hobbies? You don’t have to talk about the breakup,” Chan offers.

Changbin hates how tempting it is. He feels raw; his emotions wrung out and left to dry, but Changbin still thinks Felix's pretty much perfect. It's not Felix's fault he figured out he was too good for Changbin and all his bullshit.

"Felix," Changbin starts, and _fuck_ , his voice is already breaking, "he, uh, always has this cross earring on one ear. He styles his hair sometimes. And, like, it doesn’t even look good at some point. He lets his fringe fall on his lazy days, and he could pass off as a Korean Justin Bieber, I swear. Pretty dorky at the mention of these Western artists he likes. Doesn’t know how to hold many things in his arm, physically.. And, God, he’s steals all the covers. Literally, every night."

"Sounds like a real catch," Chan says dryly.

Changbin shoots him a glare before continuing, "He's basically an actual talented 18 year-old. He raps, got fluent in Korean within the span of one year, and taught himself how to dance ever since he was still in Australia. And shit, the first time I heard him sing..."

Chan's face has gone from politely interested to confused to disbelieving in the span of three seconds.

"Holy shit. Felix Lee. You're fucking dating Felix Lee."

" _Was_ fucking dating Felix Lee," Changbin corrects, before realizing, "Wait. How the fuck do you know Felix?"

"We’ve known each other even way back when I was still in Sydney. That dude’s a gem," Chan says, and then looks genuinely upset, "he's sick."

"No fucking kidding," Changbin says, "he's been sick his whole life."

"No," Chan disagrees, "sick _sick_. He was telling me about a few weeks ago, just said it had something to do with his condition. He didn’t really want to talk about it.”

The world flips on its axis, and Changbin has a bout of vertigo so strong he almost throws up all over Chan and his ugly couch. Still, he’s up in less than a second, gasping, “Holy shit. I need to talk to him.”

"Wait, wait, Changbin," Chan stops him with a hand on his arm, and he gives Changbin a surprisingly sincere look before saying, "Felix... He mentioned that he was seeing someone. Really, he would talk about you like you fucking hung the stars or some shit, man. Just, whatever's going on with him now, whatever he tells you, he needs you."

"Yeah," Changbin replies, "I need him too."

 

* * *

 

Changbin breaks every speed law in existence on the way home, and watches as the pieces slide into place with what Chan’s told him.

Felix having a doctor’s appointment a couple of days before their fight.

Felix suddenly wanting to go out more, deciding he might as well finally live life if he’s going to die soon anyway. (The thought leaves Changbin gasping for breath, but he speeds on anyway.)

Felix breaking up with Changbin because… well, possibly, because of exactly what he told Changbin. But, considering the timing, he’s really hoping not.

 

* * *

 

It’s déjà vu as Changbin knocks on Felix’s door, shoving his foot in the door frame again because this time Felix doesn’t even let Changbin speak before he goes to slam it in his face.

“Felix, we need to talk,” Changbin says, and he’s not angry, but he’s demanding. He’s not about to take no for an answer. Even if Felix doesn’t want to talk about _them_ , well, Changbin’s concern for Felix goes far beyond his own pathetic need for love.

And Felix, for all his words about how he and Changbin just don’t work, still gets it, saying, “Yeah… maybe we do.”

Changbin looks into Felix’s apartment, his chest seizing, before he suggests, “There’s that coffee shop down the block... Maybe we can talk there.”

Felix looks a little hurt, but Changbin’s not about to walk back into that apartment and be reminded of everything he shared with Felix, only to be rejected a second time. Changbin isn’t completely sure how this is going to end, and for once, he chooses self preservation.

“Okay,” Felix agrees, “Just let me grab a jacket.”

Felix walks off to find a coat and Changbin sighs in relief, taking a moment to compose himself. Just seeing the blond feels like breaking his heart all over again, like a breath of air before his head’s inevitability shoved back underwater, and Changbin knows no matter where this conversation goes, chances are he’s losing Felix anyway. He’s surprised he’s still even standing, let alone about to go have an actual adult conversation about their relationship. Maybe Changbin’s changed more than he’d like to admit.

Felix comes back with a hoodie that Changbin almost immediately recognizes as his own, somehow not making it into the box of things he had given Changbin back. He opens his mouth to say something before deciding to actually just shut up for once. Though, he still smiles when Felix turns his back and can’t see it; Felix’s always preferred gestures to words, and this time, he’s spoken loud and clear.

The walk to the coffeehouse is silent, with Changbin’s hand occasionally brushing against Felix’s, but he’s too much a coward to take it. Changbin doesn’t know what he’d do if Felix pulled away.

When they get inside, Changbin scrunches his nose slightly, remembering that he doesn’t actually even like this place. Too many college students with dumb sounding drinks and pretentious attitudes because they don’t go to Starbucks. And really, the coffee isn’t even that good.

He decides it’s worth it though when Felix lights up just at the sight the place, clearly just starved from _people_. Changbin considers how Felix would never have just spent hours at a coffee shop like this, working on a college paper or just wasting time, and swallows hard at all the experiences Felix’s been forced to miss out on.

Once they get their drinks, Felix leads him to a small table in the back, away from the eyes and ears of everyone else. Changbin slumps his shoulders in relief. It’s not particularly busy at this time of the day, but Changbin still wants as few witnesses as possible for when he inevitably breaks down into tears.

They stare at each other for a few moments, awkwardly but not really because Changbin just wants to memorize Felix’s face, take in all his features for when he inevitably won’t have them anymore.

Finally, Felix starts, “I’ve missed you. A lot,” he glances at Changbin, fiddles with his drink and continues, “I didn’t realize how much I would before... before breaking up with you. I thought I was used to being alone.”

Changbin flinches (because _yeah_ , he missed Felix too), but does his best to cover it. He’s never been a particularly good actor, though, because Felix reaches across the table to take his hand. Changbin isn’t sure how he feels about the way the gesture immediately causes him to relax.

Changbin takes in a breath, before replying, “I did rapping with a lot of people before I met you.”

Felix’s eyebrows draw together at the non-sequitur, but Changbin just shakes his head when he opens his mouth.

He continues, “Most of them started to not like me— I was kinda an asshole, and sorta expected to be the center of attention, even though I was probably the least talented person there.” he notices Felix almost jumping in to counter that statement, but he quickly speaks again. “ So, uh, I got kicked out of a lot of the duos/trios I was in, though I’m still in one now.” Changbin chuckles, “and I’ve told you about all my past relationships. How I was more in love with idea of whoever I was dating than the person themself. How I never seemed to be good enough to keep people around.

“I thought my voice, or the music, or whoever I was seeing that week… I thought they could make me happy. I thought they could fix me,” Changbin stops, giving Felix a meaningful look, “but all I’ve ever wanted from you is _you_. All I want is for you to be happy, and if that means… if that means fucking on out of your life because you don’t want me anymore, I’ll do it. It’ll fucking end me, but I’ll do it.

“But Felix,” Changbin grips his hand tighter, probably too hard, but Changbin’s on the edge of his entire world, “if that’s not what you want, then I don’t care what’s going on. Don’t push me away.”

Felix looks on the verge of tears, but all he says is, “I’m sick.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m _dying_.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“You’d rather have me _healthy_.”

Changbin winces because that was never what he meant.

“I’d rather just have you.”

“Then…” Felix hesitates, “I’d rather have you too.”

There’s nothing intimate about a coffee shop, but as Changbin stares at Felix across from him, he swears they’re the only ones in the world.

They make it out the door and around the corner before Felix pushes him into a wall, body flush against Changbin’s. He kisses Changbin rough and desperate, murmuring, “I love you, I love you so much,” between each press of lips, and Changbin will never have the words to explain how much this feels like coming home.  But something about it feels finite, too, and Changbin knows he won’t have this for much longer. It makes him just as desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really procrastinated updating this because i couldn't bear to write it all out in words... hhhhh. apologies for the slow update, i'll make sure to update next week, and thanks for the comments! i'll get to them soon. <3
> 
> creds. to seungmni @ twitter for the eng trans of that one line in broken compass!


	4. Chapter 4

Changbin sits beside Felix on the couch, leaning into him until he can trail kisses up the other man’s neck, reveling in the gasps and small noises Felix makes as Changbin bites down, soft but insistent.

“No, wait, Changbin,” Felix stops him, placing his hands on Changbin’s face, pecking his lips softly and then pulling back. “You know we’re not done talking.”

Changbin hunches his shoulders and averts his eyes because he really wanted to skip this part of the conversation. However painful the last half hour was, this is going to be much worse.

Changbin edges off Felix, but settles right next to him as they sit up. He takes one of Felix’s hands in his own, taking a deep breath and pretending that he’s trying to comfort the other man rather than himself. “Alright. Talk to me.”

The brunet hears the blond inhale slowly before speaking.

“A couple of years ago, I... was part of a gene therapy trial. It’s pretty complicated stuff, but basically they were using gene transplants from bone marrow to try and give people with immunodeficiency a working immune system. It was all pretty cutting edge, people were talking about curing it,” Felix pauses, “and then some girl from the program developed leukemia. And then after that, some guy...” Felix chuckled bitterly. “The trials were cut pretty soon after that.”

Changbin’s stomach has dropped to the floor, but he squeezes Felix’s hand, urging him to continue. He tries his best to give off a reassuring smile, but it undoubtedly comes off as a grimace.

“I was just getting a checkup for the SCID, making sure it wasn’t getting worse or anything,” Felix’s talking fast and low now, hands clammy and expression unreadable, “and they noticed I had a high white blood cell count, which was especially weird since I basically don’t have any. They ran a few other tests, but it was pretty much a given after that.”

“”Lix…” Changbin trails off, his apprehension and fear blanking his mind in the face of something _so much worse_ than he could ever have imagined himself. _Cancer_ . People on TV get cancer. Distant relatives you only ever saw at Christmas get cancer. People you know, _someone you see every day_ , they don’t get cancer.

Changbin stares at Felix, who doesn’t look sick, doesn’t even look _tired_ , and thinks, unless, of course, when they do.

“Changbin,” Felix breaks him out of his stupor, “this is gonna suck. A lot. The leukemia, even if I try and treat it… I’m falling apart. You didn’t sign up for that, not really,” Felix says, sincere as he tries, yet again, to give Changbin an out he doesn’t even want, “that’s why I broke up with you. You shouldn’t have to go through this. And I knew you’d stay, even if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Felix,” Changbin looks into too brown eyes and thinks _cancer, cancer, cancer_. It’s terrifying, but he’s never been more serious as he responds, “I already told you. I just want you.”

 

* * *

 

The next day instead of going to work, Changbin visits his mom. He can’t remember the last time they even spoke ever since he moved out, and he knows it had to have been an argument, but he goes anyway.

When she answers the door, her expression flickers between a number of emotions: shocked, relieved, happy— before finally settling on concerned. “Changbin, sweetheart.”

“Mom,” And Changbin’s voice is already wavering, and it’s seeing his mom for the first time in almost a year, but it’s also what he has to say.

She immediately steps forward to hug him, and Changbin returns the gesture without hesitation.

And Changbin loves his mom, loves her so much because she’s probably pissed as hell about their last fight or that he didn’t call last Christmas, and yet the next words out of her mouth are, “Come in, and tell me what’s wrong.”

She sits Changbin down on the couch, the same one his mom’s had for the last twenty years, and brings him a glass of water. Sitting down next to him, she just stares at him expectantly until he spills everything, the same method she’d use when he was thirteen and sneaking out each night. Over five years later, and he lasts two minutes before he cracks.

“I met someone,” Changbin gives her a watery smile, before continuing, “I met someone, mom. And he’s amazing. Just… God, I love him so much.”

She smiles back, bemused, before giving him her typical mom enthusiasm, “That’s wonderful, Changbin. When do I get to meet him?”

“I, uh… soon. I was gonna ask him about it later this week depending on, uh, whether you’d let me in the door or not,” Changbin admits, chucking anxiously and rubbing the back of his neck, “but mom… he’s... Well. He’s sick. Felix’s sick,” Changbin’s voice cracks, “It’s, uh. It’s pretty bad, Mom.”

His mom puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, but remains silent, and he’s eternally grateful because right now Changbin doesn’t need condolences, he just needs to _talk_.

He backpedals to the very beginning, to tripping over those damn boxes and crashing into Felix in the hallway. Changbin knows he sounds like a love-struck idiot, but that’s completely the truth so he doesn’t even care.

He’s choked up again by the time he reaches their first fight, barely able to speak but needing to get the words out. Changbin will never be able to describe just how much Felix’s changed his life, how much Felix’s saved him without even trying, but for now, just getting through the story is enough of a victory for him.

“And last night,” Changbin continues, “I went to talk to him— try and fix things, y’know. I couldn’t have him going through that alone if there was any chance that I could be there for him,” Changbin’s talking to the floor, concentrating on the hand rubbing circles into his back, rather than the words. “I— it worked. We talked everything out, like… like adults, or whatever.

“But, he was diagnosed with Leukemia, some delayed effect from a medical trial he was a part of _years ago,_ ” Changbin pauses, “I don’t even know how that happens. How something that was supposed to _cure_ you can fuck you over even worse,” Changbin’s a mess of tears now, not even bothering to wipe them away at this point, “It’s just not _fair_ . Felix doesn’t deserve this, _any of this_. And when it comes to support, he’s just stuck with me.

“I don’t know how to be strong for him,” Changbin confesses, drawing his legs up to rest his forehead against his knees. “I don’t know how to be what Felix needs.”

“Changbin,” his mom finally says, “it sounds like you’re exactly what he needs.”

Changbin chokes a laugh in response, to which his mom gives a stern look.

Patiently, she tells him, “Changbin, sweet, this isn’t about _you_ ,” she drops her voice, more serious, “You can’t let yourself be immersed in your own emotional insecurities. He _chose_ you to be there for him, and whether or not you think you’re good enough, he does. So _be there for him_ ”

Changbin takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly because she’s right. His mom’s always right. Changbin gives her a small smile; still fragile, but at least it’s something.

“Now, come on,” she says, suddenly cheerful, “It’s about time I started dinner; you can help with the vegetables while we talk about when you’re bringing Felix over.”

When Changbin gets home later that night, only half an hour later than usual, he finds Felix already in bed, fast asleep with the covers bunched up around him. He gives the lump of blankets a worried glance, before kicking off his shoes and crawling in next to Felix.

If he maybe holds Felix a little tighter than usual, pressing his face into the other man’s shoulder like maybe he could get stuck there—

Well, who could blame him?

 

* * *

 

Felix signs up for the church’s dance team. He receives a message the day afterwards, informing the blond that he’s in, and the happiness that radiates off him right afterward makes Changbin realise he doesn’t regret letting him out of his bubble. On days where Felix practices along with the others, Changbin would accompany him, but only sits at a corner, not bothering to even try moving a muscle despite Felix’s teasing in asking him to join along. He can barely dance himself, and he doesn’t exactly want his first impression to be someone who’d look like a fish out of water if he ever tried.

Besides, he’d much rather just watch Felix. Which, okay, is kind of creepy, but the blond was fucking _made_ for this. Without even trying, he absolutely stands out, not just because of his blond locks, but he manages to just have moves so sharp and accurate, already earning compliments from the existing dance team members. It’s kind of hard to believe he taught himself to dance not too long ago, and they’re so impressed that they offer Felix the previously nonexistent position of the lead dancer. Soon, he and Changbin are at the church for at least once a week.

And despite the panic that seizes him whenever someone gets in a position too close to Felix, seeing how happy Felix is, Changbin can’t deny what a good idea this was.

During one practice as the entire team learns a new choreography, they get into a position where the blond’s surrounded by people, and Felix gives Changbin this panicked, pleading look until Changbin has to get up and request for his position to be changed, where he ends up standing at a corner for that formation instead.

That was one of the very few times where the brunet speaks to the other dance members for the sake of Felix, and later on after they’ve concluded their practice for the night, they go up to Changbin for a small conversation while waiting for Felix to pack up.

He continues talking and answering questions until he feels a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to find Felix smiling down at him, jacket on and already changed into fresh clothes.

“Hey, it’s 8:30. You wanna get going anytime soon?” Felix teases, eyes bright in the way they always get after he’s flooded with compliments.

“I don’t know,” Changbin counters, “maybe I’m so interesting they’re willing to teach me some moves as well?”

Changbin gets a bout of cheers from the others, and he grins back at all of them, completely charmed.

Felix laughs, then smiles brilliantly at him, and Changbin can’t help the way he falls just a little bit more in love than he already was.

“Get your coat. I was thinking we could do Chinese tonight, that one place by the park,” Felix suggests.

Changbin hops up, eager for some Lo Mein, and goes across the room to find his jacket. He comes back just in time to hear one of the dancers ask Felix, “You’re actually really good at dancing, have you ever considered joining a competition by yourself in Seoul?”

He stands there, frozen, as Felix has to explain to him that he’s not expecting to make it to his next birthday, let alone long enough to even join a competition with them, even.

By the time Felix wanders over to where he’s standing, still frozen in shock, Changbin’s mood has considerably dampened.

 

* * *

 

The weeks blend into months and Changbin tries not to notice the way Felix goes to bed earlier and earlier, exhausted no matter how he spends his days. He’s gone from stealing the covers to pushing them off by morning, fevers that catch him in the middle of the night that are gone by the next day. Days will pass where Felix will eat practically nothing, despite Changbin’s best efforts to cook him anything and everything he might find even remotely appetizing. He feels like they’re fighting a losing battle, but Felix’s nothing if not stubborn.

Changbin feels like his life is breaking at the seams, falling apart just slow enough for him to watch and just fast enough that it fucking terrifies him. He looks at Felix and feels like he’s fallen in love with a fading memory.

Three months after his diagnosis, Felix comes home from the oncologist (despite Changbin’s protests, he always insist on going alone), shoulders slumped and mouth quirked into something other than a smile.

Changbin refrains from asking, knows Felix won’t talk about it until he’s ready, and doesn’t question the way Felix kisses him that night, desperate and energized in a way Changbin hasn’t seen in weeks.

The next morning over breakfast, Felix tells him. It’s getting worse, and without viable treatment options considering his condition, there’s not much they can do.

The doctors give Felix three months.

 

* * *

 

It’s like a switch goes off in Felix’s body at the news, and Changbin spends the next month living the mantra _good days and bad days_ . Good days when Felix has enough energy to get out of bed, maybe go to the coffee shop around the corner or the park a couple of blocks away. Bad days where Changbin has to fight to keep Felix at home because _Jesus Christ_ , he can barely walk, let alone go unload his talent in the church’s dance studio.

Some days Felix will drag Changbin back to bed with him and wrap himself around Changbin, head lying on his shoulder and warm breath puffing softly against his collarbone. He never says anything, but for Changbin, this is closest Felix gets to emotional, the closest he’ll ever come to saying _I’m not okay_. These days are the worst because something seizes in Changbin, desperate for more time, but there’s nothing he can do except hold Felix back.

Changbin becomes accustomed to calling the church and having to inform them when Felix just doesn’t have the energy or has a fever of 102 or is too busy throwing up to even get up. They tell him _it’s fine, tell Felix to feel better_ and _you’re in our prayers_ and Changbin has to force himself not to throw his phone across the room or shout in indignation because none of it even means anything.

Felix’s never going to _feel better_ and no amount of prayers change the fact that’s he’s _dying_ , slowly wilting away, right in front of Changbin’s eyes. He comes to resent the sympathy just as much as the disease.

One morning Felix wakes up drowsy, but not drained in the way he often is, and tells Changbin he wants to dance; it’s a Wednesday and they’ll be expecting him anyway. They argue about it until Felix throws a picture frame across the room, and snaps, “I’m going, Changbin. Now you can either come with or stay the fuck here, I don’t care. But I’m fucking going.”

Changbin doesn’t respond, but goes and grabs his coat. Felix’s smiling softly when he returns, and maybe it doesn’t feel quite so much like defeat after that.

In spite of Felix’s protests, Changbin insists on carrying his bag. Felix shoves him playfully, a sarcastic remark about chivalry and _wow, such a gentleman, Changbin_ accompanying his actions, but he also takes Changbin’s hand as they walk to church, holding it the entire way.

They show up five minutes late, but everyone’s more than happy to see them. The team runs up to Felix, giving him a hug with concerned looks accompanying their faces, knowing something’s off, but not quite able to comprehend what’s wrong.

Still, they all disperse afterwards, lively excitement and smiles present as they start practicing again as one.

Changbin joins along this time, standing at the side and trying to imitate the choreography each time the dance team goes through the entire song, and the members laugh whenever they catch a glance of the brunet’s awkward moves. It’s heartening as well, when Felix makes eye contact with him, and they both just grin at each other.

After the last round of dancing, Changbin goes to Felix right afterwards and whispers to him, “I think I’m in love. Care to come home with me tonight?”

Felix laughs and misses the next verse as he murmurs back, “We live in _my_ apartment, asshole. You’ll be coming home with _me_.”

And then Changbin’s laughing too, head thrown back and without reserve, and he feels something like peace for the first time in weeks. He considers Felix, whose smile is dazzling despite tired eyes and shaky hands, and tries not to dwell on how final it all feels.

 

* * *

 

Just a few nights later, Changbin wakes up to Felix freaking out, _I can’t see I can’t see_ , words slurred with his panic, hands clutched to his head. Changbin’s unsure what to do, caught between attempting to pacify Felix and blindly reaching behind himself, trying to locate his phone. Felix makes a pained noise, and Changbin’s blood freezes at Felix goes limp in his arms, unresponsive and unexpectedly cold.

Changbin panics, and scrambles to find his phone in the dark (where the _fuck_ did he put it before bed, it should be _right here)_ on the nightstand. Finally, _finally_ , he finds it fallen in the space between the bed and the nightstand and he rushes to dial 911, hands shaking and almost missing the buttons.

The lady who answers is nice, _calm_ , and Changbin is literally on the verge of a meltdown as he gasps out, “My boyfriend—he, I don’t know, just passed out. He was complaining about not being able to see; I think maybe his head hurt? He won’t, he’s not—He was _fine_ earlier. I just—”

“Sir, _sir_ ,” the dispatcher interrupts, “I need you to calm down. First, I need your address.”

He rattles it off to her, stuttering and barely comprehensible, before continuing, “What—I don’t know what to do. He’s not.”

“Okay, sir,” she says, still calm, still so _fucking_ calm, “I need you to tell my any symptoms you noticed, anything that might help the paramedics when they arrive.”

“He’s already sick,” Changbin blurts, “Leukemia. I don’t know if that— I’m not sure… He was,” Changbin pauses, gasping breaths, “He was slurring, not really talking clearly? I’m not sure, I don’t think there was anything else.”

She tells him five minutes, and offers to stay on the phone with him.

Changbin hangs up and dials Chan.

He picks up after two rings and that’s when Changbin really begins to lose control, unable to manage his breathing and not completely sure what exactly he’s spewing out to his friend across the line. Thankfully, he somehow manages to get a least part of the situation through in his incoherency, and he’s cut off by Chan, who just says, “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Changbin’s wheezing breaths, feeling lightheaded and hyperaware all at once, “Chris,” he pleads, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. He has to be okay. He has to. It’s only been a month. I haven’t _…_ It’s only been _a month._ ”

“Changbin, Changbin, _Changbin_ ,” Chan says, low and commanding, “You need to _calm down_. Think about anything you might need to bring to the hospital, get it all together before the paramedics arrive, and then ask if you can ride in the ambulance.”

Changbin looks around the room, thinking about what he needs, and it’s a dumb question, so dumb, because all he needs is Felix.

 _Felix_ , who is unconscious on the bed and just two feet away, but Changbin’s never felt further.

Seconds or hours later and the paramedics are through the door, gently yet firmly pushing Changbin to the side, then carefully lifting Felix off the bed and onto a stretcher.

One comes up to Changbin, asking questions, and he answers as best he can, unaware of whatever words happen to be coming out of his mouth.  Apparently, it’s good enough because the EMT finishes with, “Okay, you riding with us?”

Changbin nods frantically, following the paramedics out the door, eyes avoiding the stretcher, unable to bear the sight of Felix, motionless and strapped down.

The paramedics usher him into the ambulance, and he sits and stares at the wall opposite of him. He doesn’t remember anything from the ride to the hospital.

 

* * *

 

Once there, doctors are already waiting for their arrival, quickly taking Felix and rushing him into critical care. Changbin is led into a waiting room, where he promptly collapses into a chair, unable to stand.

Changbin takes his head in his hands, just trying to _breathe_ , when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up and finds Chan, face calm, but Changbin can tell he’s more anxious than he’s letting on.

Chan hands him a cup of coffee, a cheap Styrofoam container that suggest he got it from the hospital cafeteria, and says, “These things usually take a while. And it’s not like you’d be getting any sleep any time soon anyway.”

Changbin snatches the cup, eternally grateful, even if it’s just something to occupy his hands. He watches as steam rises up from the dark liquid and confesses, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if he’s not okay. He— we were supposed to have more _time_ ,” Changbin’s so anxious, he’s moved right past worried and into anger, “It’s been a month, Chris. A _fucking_ _month_.”

He sets down the coffee cup so he doesn’t throw it, sits on his hands so he doesn’t punch anything. Chan remains silent, knowing Changbin needs to work himself up before having any hope of calming down.

“A month, a month, a month, a month, a month.” Changbin repeats the words until they mean nothing, and then continues until he feels like nothing too.

There’s this emptiness inside of Changbin, and the longer he waits the more he can feel it growing, consuming him until he feels like he might stop existing if he doesn’t _do something_ . It’s an old feeling, but it’s amplified a thousand times over because, for Felix, there’s nothing he _can do_.

Time passes, and Changbin sinks into himself, staring at a coffee cup that has long since gone cold.

Eventually, minutes or hours later, a doctor comes out, looking somewhere between haggard and sympathetic. Apprehension (distant, muted) crawls up Changbin’s spine as the doctor looks at him and Chan and asks, “Family of Felix Lee?”

Despite being the only ones in the room, Changbin nods anyway. He doesn’t remember moving, but he’s up in an instant, meeting the doctor halfway, “Yes, I’m— What can you tell us?”

“I’m Dr. Hwang, and I’m working as Mr. Lee’s primary physician,” he begins, “Mr. Lee is suffering from Leukostasis, an extremely high blast cell count,” he explains, “These blast cells are nonfunctioning white blood cells, and lead to clumping and hypoxia, low levels of oxygen in the blood. While we’ve stabilized his immediate condition, long-term treatment seems unlikely. I’m sorry, Mr…”

“Changbin. I…uh, Changbin.”

“I’m sorry, Changbin,” he continues, “There’s just not much we can do.”

Whatever’s left of himself, Changbin can feel it shutting down, that hollow feeling inside him overwhelming him to where he can barely choke out, “How long?”

“A few days, a week at the most,” he replies, the perfect face of sympathy. The doctor continues, as if he didn’t just end Changbin’s entire world, “He’s still not awake, but you can go see him now, if you’d like.”

Changbin’s nodding without thought, following the doctor down the hall and feeling absolutely nothing. Changbin thinks about the doctor’s words, trying to understand. But…

_A week._

It crawls around his mind, and Changbin feels like he’s staring down the impossible. Felix wanted to see some weird-ass independent Western film that’s supposed to come out next month. He can’t… he can’t just have a week. He’s supposed to go see that movie.

They stop abruptly, and the doctor gestures inside a dark room labeled _4419_.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” the doctor says, and then he’s alone.

Changbin braces himself, but is still unprepared for the scene that greets him. The oxygen tube. The I.V. Felix’s always been pale, but dark circles stand out stark against his skin in a way that makes Changbin feel nauseous.  He’s almost perfectly still, the only movement coming from the slight rise and fall of his chest. Felix’s getting his ass kicked by his own body, and Changbin can see it in every line of his face, the sickly pallor of his skin.

The numbness that had overtaken him vanishes, and Changbin’s chest seizes to the point of pain. He staggers closer to Felix, collapsing in the chair next to the bed. The reality of Felix’s humanity washes over Changbin. Felix’s _dying_ , not as some bad metaphor, not someday in the future. Right here, right now in some goddamn hospital bed.

Something breaks inside Changbin and he’s sobbing, clutching Felix’s hand and not saying anything because there’s too much to say. Bitterly, Changbin thinks, he’s already begged Felix to stay, and he’s lying on a hospital bed anyway.

He shutters, sobs wracking his frame, and he lashes out, knocking a glass vase off the bedside table. He stares at the pieces shattered on the floor and doesn’t feel any less devastated.

Changbin spends the night by Felix’s bed, alternating between anguish and rage.

“We were supposed to have more time, Felix,” he pleads, so fucking desperate, “I need you. You— I haven’t even said goodbye. You can’t— _‘Lix_.”

"Fuck, Felix, you don't get to do this to me, to _us_ ," Changbin yells, and he's so fucking devastated, and Felix's just lying there, too exhausted or drugged-out for consciousness. "Please, please, _please_. Please don't."

“Just,” he sobs, “just wake up. Just talk to me. Just _be okay_ , just for a little longer. I just need a little longer.”

The night passes, and Felix sleeps.

 

* * *

 

Changbin doesn’t remember falling asleep. However, when he wakes up, it’s to a sore neck and Felix staring down at him, a sad smile playing across his face. He scoots over, patting the empty bed next to him. Changbin crawls in, avoiding all the tubes, wrapping himself around Felix and burying his face in the other man’s neck.

Felix doesn’t say anything, but he reaches up, rubbing a soothing hand on his back as Changbin just breathes, forcing himself to stay calm when all he wants is to break down again. When Felix was first diagnosed, Changbin told himself he had to be strong, that Felix couldn’t see him upset because Changbin wasn’t the one dying. If Felix wasn’t going to cry, then neither was he.

But when Felix finally speaks, all he says is, “It’s okay, Changbin. Let it out,” and immediately, he’s sobbing, making a mess of Felix’s hospital gown and not giving a shit. Felix continues rubbing his back, repeating, “It’s okay, Changbin. It’s okay.”

Except it’s fucking not.

He raised his head and wipes his eyes, determined to tell Felix as much, only to find Felix’s hastily trying to do the same. Changbin grabs his wrist, pulling Felix’s hand away and replacing it with his own. He rubs his thumbs down Felix’s face, tracing the tracks left by tears and confesses, “I thought you weren’t gonna wake up. They said… A few days, maybe a week. I thought— I thought I was going to spend that time begging for you to wake up, just to give me a chance to say goodbye.”

“Changbin…” Felix trails off, before giving him a hopeless look. Changbin understands; there isn’t anything to say to that, no way to make it any less awful than it is.

Changbin returns his head to Felix’s shoulder, and they sit in silence for a few moments. He feels Felix’s intake of breath, deeper than the others, and recognizes it as a nervous habit of Felix’s, something he does when he thinks he’s about to start an argument.

Changbin can’t see it, but he feels the way Felix hesitates, before saying, “I thought… I thought something like this might happen.”

Changbin stiffens, disbelieving. ‘What—”

“That last dance practice, the last time,” Felix cuts him off, voice flat, but his hand finds Changbin’s, clutching tightly, “I just… _felt_ it. I knew it was my last chance. That’s why I wanted to go so bad; I thought it was the last time I’d get to dance,” he lets out a puff of air, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, “I guess I was right.”

Changbin’s frozen, trying to comprehend what Felix’s just told him, when Chan walks in the room. He’s carrying two cups of coffee and what looks like a microwave breakfast bagel. He hands the bagel and one of the cups to Changbin, while giving the other to Felix. “I told them the coffee was for me and Changbin, but I figured… all things considered, you deserve some caffeine.”

Felix’s looking at Chan like he’s some kind of messiah, and Changbin has no idea if it’s for sustaining Felix’s coffee addiction or saving him from the fallout of what he’s just confessed to Changbin, but he sounds genuinely grateful when he says, “Thanks so much. I needed this.”

Chan nods in response, before shifting subjects, “I called Woojin… and your mom, Changbin,” he continues on, not even responding to Changbin’s indignation, “they’re both coming over later today. I’ve got to head to work, but I’ll be back later too, okay?”

Chan heads out soon after, giving them a small, sad smile before he goes.

Once alone, Changbin resists mentioning what Felix admitted to him earlier, not willing to start a fight, preferring just to curl himself around the other man, clutching just on the side of too tight for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's unbeta-ed as i'm rushing off to class now, so... pardon anything that's off. i'll come back to fix it another day or something.
> 
> also... there's one last chapter so do hang on yeah <333


	5. Chapter 5

When Changbin’s mom shows up, the first thing she does is hug Felix, gushing over how happy she is to see him and asking if there’s anything she can get him. Felix’s blushing slightly under the attention, shaking his head no at her offers, before returning the sentiments.

The next thing she does is usher Changbin out the room, telling him that she and Felix need to talk _alone_ , and that he can go hang in the hallway with Woojin until they’re done. Changbin resists the urge to argue, that Felix’s _dying_ and Changbin intends to spend every second with him, but something in her tone lets him known it’s not up for debate.

So, he goes in the hallway and hangs out with Woojin.

When Woojin sees him, the first thing he says is, “You look like shit.”

“You’re lucky I’m even fucking standing, asshole.”

Woojin sighs in agreement, then says decidedly, “Come on, they’ll be a while. We’ll go to the cafeteria and get some food.”

Changbin glances worriedly back at Felix’s room, protesting, ‘What— What if something happens? I should be close.”

Woojin gives him this depressing smile, and Changbin’s been getting too many of those lately, before replying, “You’re right, I’ll go get you something. What do you want?”

Changbin doesn’t want anything except to go back to Felix, but he says, “Something vegetarian,” ignoring the look Woojin gives him before he leaves to fill Changbin’s request.

Once Chan’s gone, Changbin leans against a wall, forgoing a chair and just sliding to the floor. He rests his head on his knees, wondering what the fuck his mom would have to say to Felix that she wouldn’t want Changbin to hear. He winces at the possibilities.

When Woojin returns with food, some type of soy-burger that Changbin hates immediately, he sits down next to Changbin, nudging his shoulder and asking, “Lucky that you’re fucking standing, huh?”

Changbin shrugs his shoulders, returning his head to his knees. They don’t say anything after that.

 

* * *

 

When Changbin’s allowed back in Felix’s room, both Felix and his mom are sporting matching blank expressions, but the redness around their eyes is enough to give them away. His mom leaves soon after that, hugging Changbin fiercely and saying she’ll be back tomorrow.

Changbin crawls in next to Felix again, listening to his breathing and ignoring Woojin and him as they conversed with each other. At some point Felix starts stroking his hair, carding his fingers through the mess, and it’s comforting, but it’s not enough. It’ll never fucking be enough.

 

* * *

 

The next few days pass in a rotation of Chan, Woojin, or Changbin’s mom. Changbin refuses to leave the hospital, staying by Felix’s side every second he can.

He tries not to notice how each time Felix wakes it’s for shorter and shorter periods of time, but it’s hard to ignore how weak Felix’s become, unable to sit up or feed himself, getting all his nutrition through an I.V. bag that hangs by his bed.

The next time he wakes, late at night, Felix stares as Changbin, exhausted, and whispers, “I’m tired, Changbin.”

Changbin’s vision blurs, and he reaches up to stroke Felix’s face, murmuring back, “I know, ‘Lix. I know. You can go back to sleep.”

Felix blinks, slow and weighted, and continues, “I think… I think now might be a good time to say goodbye, Changbin.”

“No, no, Felix,” Changbin’s disagreeing instantly, “Not yet. You can’t— not yet.”

“I love you. I love you so much, Changbin,” Felix persists, ignoring his protests, “You’re amazing, Changbin. With your words, with your rapping. Don’t— don’t stop just ‘cause I can’t be there with you.”

“I don’t want to do it without you. I can’t,” Changbin confesses, barely managing to choke the words out.  

Felix’s smile is understanding, but it’s too close to pity, and the last person Changbin wants fucking pity from is Felix.

Eventually, Felix just repeats, “I love you. So much.”

Felix’s shoving a knife in his chest, and Changbin feels like he’s helping him twist it. Still, he replies, “I love you, too.”

Felix falls asleep soon after that. Changbin doesn’t.

Hours later, Changbin’s watching Felix— trying to memorize the lines of his face, the rise and fall of his chest— when his heart monitor suddenly changes tone, dropping into a single monotonous beep. Changbin’s frozen, mind blanking at the situation, as doctors rush into the room, not reacting until two nurses try and pull him out.

Changbin starts shouting, struggling to break out of their grip, his arms flailing as he tries to break free, desperately needing to get back to Felix.

 _Felix_ , the only calm in a room of chaos, lying on the bed and completely unaware of the doctors rushing to save him. Of Changbin’s frantic panic. Of the storm whirling around him. Just, _calm_.

They always say it’s best to go in your sleep. Quiet. Peaceful. They never consider who might be screaming around you.

 

* * *

 

The funeral takes place outside. It’s sunny, bright, the type of day that Felix, with his condition, wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy.  

Changbin stands in front of a small crowd— friends from the church, freelance buskers Felix knew, friends of theirs— and tries not to scream.

He’s caught between wanting to say nothing because these people didn’t appreciate Felix, not like he _deserved_ , and wanting to yell, _vehement_ , that they lost something extraordinary. That they should want to be screaming too.

He opens his mouth, dry and weighted, and does neither.

“Felix,” Changbin begins, caught between useless clichés and raw misery, “is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t— I can’t imagine being without him. He’s— He _was,_ my best friend,” Changbin pauses, attempting to compose himself, “Felix…There’s so much I could say, so many _amazing_ things about Felix, but mostly. Mostly…

“He deserved better. Than me. Than his condition. Felix deserved _better_ ,” Changbin’s hands are clenched. He can’t look at the people in front of him. It hurts, the words _hurt_ , but Changbin needs to say this, _needs_ for these people to understand. “I just wish he had gotten it.”

Changbin finishes, sits down between his mom and Chan, spends the rest of the funeral with the heels of his hands shoved against his eyes.

When it’s over, after the burial, his mom hugs him tight, and he buries his head in her shoulder, breathing deep but wanting to choke; his lungs feel shattered, each inhale scraping glass.

They pull apart and his mom looks anguished, and Changbin has to swallow the lump in his throat when he considers how much his mom adored Felix, how much she must be hurting too.

She quirks her lips, something like a grimace, and says, “I have something for you. From Felix. He… he wanted me to give it to you.”

Changbin's stomach is lead, and he thinks back to Felix and his mom, talking privately at the hospital, barely a week ago. Changbin isn’t sure he can handle another reminder, especially one from Felix himself, that he isn’t coming back. That he’s alone now.

Changbin asks to see what it is.

 

* * *

 

A black notebook, the type you can buy at a 99 cent store. He prays in his mind that it wouldn’t be from the one just down the road, otherwise he’d lose his mind the next time he passes by for to get food for himself.

There’s nothing on the cover, but when he flips it open, he finds lyrics, _his lyrics_ , written in Felix’s loopy scrawl.

_I can rest but it's too soon_

_I need to rest but I'm still far_

_The road we must go_

_Although we can't see the end, we need to look for it_

It’s the song that Changbin had already started writing lyrics for before he met Felix, and the brunet slams the notebook shut upon realization. He’s gasping for breath, eyes blurry and hands shaking.

Suspicion sits low in his gut, and Changbin quickly flips the notebook open again, this time to a random page towards the back. He scans the page, jerking back because he’s staring at different words, a different song of theirs, written only a few months back.

He leafs through the book randomly, and it’s every song they ever wrote together, all the lyrics they ever shared. Changbin’s holding a piece of himself, but it hurts too much without Felix being there to hold it with him.

For a moment, he’s filled with blinding rage and Changbin considers destroying the notebook. Tearing it up, burning it, just throwing it the fuck away. But the songs aren't just his, and he can't throw them away without throwing Felix away too.

Eventually, he locks the notebook in his nightstand, determined never to look at it again.

 

* * *

 

Changbin shuts himself in his— just _his_ now —room, lying on a bed that’s too big for just him, but too small for the memories it holds. Grief hits him in flashes, too painful to comprehend, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Mourning, for Changbin, turns out to be a lot of sleeping. Spending most of his days unconscious, Changbin thinks, horrified, he’s never been more rested.

Changbin has moments of denial, when he’ll wonder when Felix’s getting home, what they’ll do that night. Or when Chan visits with food, same time every day, trying to force Changbin to eat so he doesn’t starve himself. It’s a nice sentiment, but Changbin wishes he wouldn’t.

Every time Chan walks through the door, Changbin expects it to be Felix.

Changbin doesn’t know how to handle the gaping hole that suddenly resides inside him. Every decision, _every thought,_ is spent edging around it, avoiding the reality that Changbin just doesn’t have Felix anymore, will never have him again.

He’s not always successful, the piles of notebooks that Changbin’s left untouched in the corner of his room a testament to that. But Changbin doesn’t care; he can’t remember his own words anymore, mind frozen when he so much as thinks of writing, and without Felix, he doesn’t even want to anyway.

Changbin floats, somewhere between vacant and devastated, unwilling to accept reality but unable to deny how empty the apartment now feels.

 

* * *

 

Time passes.

Changbin goes back to work.

He meets with his attorney. Felix left all his assets to Changbin, and he has no idea when Felix found the time to draw up a fucking will.

Chan comes by less and less.

The notebook stays in his nightstand.

Things go back to _normal_.

Changbin doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Several months after the funeral, Changbin gets a call from the church. It's the first time in weeks, and he's regretfully but politely informed that they found a new lead dancer. _Felix will be missed._

The words feel like a physical blow, and without thought, Changbin throws the phone across the room, watches as it shatters against the wall and feels something break inside himself with it.

_“Don't stop just ‘cause I can't be there with you.”_

Changbin laughs, full bodied and bitter. They don't fucking want him anyway.

For a moment, Changbin feels like screaming, feels it stronger than anything since losing Felix, but his lungs have been ripped out, taken from him just like Felix. He's walking around without a part of himself, something _gone_ , and he has no idea how to function when he’s this broken.

He hasn't let himself cry, not in months, but as Changbin staggers to the bedroom, tears stream down his face, messy and unhindered.

He rips open the nightstand drawer, intent on destroying the goddamn notebook because Felix is fucking dead and fucking shitty lyrics aren't going to change that.

Instead, he finds himself curled up on the floor, shaking with sobs, just staring at the blank cover in front of him.

Tentatively, he opens up the notebook, tracing the letters as he mouths the words, feels them on him lips the same way as when he first wrote them. It wasn’t something Changbin had ever bothered to keep track of. The lyrics never meant as much as Felix being willing to sing them.

He flips through each page, carefully examining each word, remembering every stupid fight about placement or progression they caused.

Changbin reads the entire notebook, knows when he reaches end, knows there’s nothing beyond the half-finished mess he and Felix had been working on before things had started getting really bad and Felix no longer had the energy for song writing.

Except...

When he flips the page, there's a sticky note placed over another song, a short note written in the same familiar scrawl.

_Seo Changbin,  
_ _I'll never be one for words, but for you, I'll always try. I'm so sorry. I love you._

He rips off the note, and under it are lyrics he's never seen and words he’s never thought. They're Felix's, completely, and he wrote them for _Changbin_.

_It’s foolish but I’m still young,_  
_It’s hard to become an adult now;  
_ _I’m afraid that the day I become an adult will come._

Changbin’s eyes blur and he wipes them furiously. Staring down at the lyrics, he misses Felix so fiercely he feels dizzy with it.

He reads it over and over again, before flipping the page. He rummages around in his nightstand and feels his chest constrict when his hand curls around some cheap ballpoint. Changbin considers the blank page before him, hesitating. He doesn’t know how to write anymore without it hurting, without tearing himself apart. But Changbin’s always chosen Felix over himself.

Changbin falls asleep that night curled up on the floor, notebook clutched to his chest.

 

* * *

 

Changbin wakes up early the next morning. He takes a long shower, letting himself focus on the water as it falls on his shoulders and back. He spends thirty minutes trying to get dressed, caught between wanting to look his best and wanting to be vindictive. Dead bodies don't care what you're wearing. (He ends up in one of Felix’s old shirts.)

Before leaving, he grabs the notebook and one of Felix's favorite hoodies, tries to ignore the way the latter has collected dust, sitting untouched in the corner for the last few months.

Then he goes to Felix's grave.

He sits in the car for fifteen minutes before he can work up the courage to even open the door. This is final, something like acceptance, and Changbin isn't ready to move on from his denial.

When he does leave the car, it's with shaky hands and reluctant legs. He moves through the cemetery slowly, a numbness creeping over him as he stares at the rows of graves of in front of him.  

All people, all with families. Stories. Someone they left behind. (Changbin begins to move more quickly.)

A couple months old, but Felix's tombstone still appears the newest, shiny where others have faded, standing out like Felix never got the chance to.

Changbin sits down, resting the flowers before the grave and opening the notebook in front of him. He smiles, watery and devastated. He hadn't thought about, hadn't given himself the chance to, but Changbin already knows everything he needs to say. Everything Felix needs to hear.

"I was. I mean. You know how much of a wreck I was when I first met you," Changbin stumbles, choking on his words, unsure how to say anything without Felix with him to make it mean something, "I didn't care. I wasn't happy. I didn't even want to be.

"But then... When I met you... God, I loved you. I'll always love you." Changbin confesses, words feeling harsh and jagged until they're a sob. "I…There's not much I can say that you don't already know. But, just, people keep telling me it gets better. I don't care if it gets better, ‘Lix. You'll always be my best."

Changbin traces Felix's name on the tombstone as he talks, only dropping his hand once he's finished. Taking a shaky breath, Changbin places Felix’s old hoodie right by his grave. He flips the notebook in front of him to somewhere in the back, and stops when he sees “Young Wings” scribbled with an underline. Not all of the lyrics underneath are his, but he's memorized the entire page like they’re his own, feels them crawling through his mind the same way his own do.

One more breath, and he's staring at the tombstone again.

"I’ve always told you that I prefer doing rapping," Changbin says.

He takes a deep breath, and then _sings_.

Changbin knows he's not doing the song justice, not doing Felix justice, but he finishes anyway, going through the song again and again until his voice is as raw as the rest of him.

He sings until his volume lowers to a whisper, until the words have lost meaning and he's no longer even thinking of anything else, voice croaking to the same tune as his misery.

He sings until it _hurts_ , hurts worse than anything he's felt before, and then he sings until it doesn't. Until the glass in his throat smoothes, still sharp but not as jagged. He gives Felix back his own words just as he used to do for Changbin.

Afterwards, he flips to the next page. Written off the lines and in Changbin's messy scrawl is half formed poetry, lyrics that don't work but could given the right voice. It's not a song, but it's all Changbin has to give back.

He tears the sheet out, sets it by the flowers. He flips the notebook close, and stands. Takes a moment to place his hand on the tombstone, exhales and ignores how hard it feels to breathe. Then he walks away.

Changbin’s never been strong, and he’s only halfway out the cemetery before he’s looking back. Like always, Changbin feels the urge to destroy, desecrate the graves around him, smash them until all that’s left is him and Felix.

Changbin turns back around. He goes to his car, and drives away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry...
> 
> thank you so much all for tolerating with my terrible updating speeds; school's starting to take over soon and i'm glad i managed to finish this right before that happens. it's been painful writing this, and i really did pour all of my emotion into this while writing it all. 
> 
> i hope all of you have enjoyed this, and i hope to continue writing more fanfiction for skz this year. do leave kudos/comments/bookmark it/whatever; everything's appreciated!


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